


Far From Our Forbidden Sun

by Nevcolleil



Series: At First Sight [3]
Category: Angel: the Series, Supernatural
Genre: Character Turned Into Vampire, M/M, Multi, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 19:57:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13577874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevcolleil/pseuds/Nevcolleil
Summary: Angel hadn't expect to see him... ever.  Much less in Caritas on Double Karaoke night.A series of drabbles and ficlets set in a world where Sam and Dean Winchester have roamed the States for a century... as hunters, still, but of a comoletely different sort.





	1. Mistaken

Angel thought he’d made a mistake, at first. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that face. But he hadn’t been expecting to see it here. He hadn’t been expecting to see it… ever. Much less in Caritas on Double Karaoke night.

“Oh. ‘Scuse me, buddy. Didn’t see you there.” 

It was the same voice. Sounded a little different, of course, after a century or so. But that smirk hadn’t changed a bit. Angel blinked.

Dean didn’t. 

They stared at one another for a moment longer than strangers in passing would, the smirk never reaching Dean’s eyes. There was no mistaking the purposeful way he turned his back and walked off. Then Angel saw who he was walking toward. 

Dean _and_ Samuel, together, Angel couldn’t be mistaken about. 

They’d cut their hair (in Samuel’s case, not by much); they wore modern clothes. But they moved the same way they had back then - like they were one body instead of two. Two brains. Two mouths. Two sets of fangs. They could cut through a crowd like lightning through tree bark, and the crowd usually let them. The brothers were beautiful. It took most people seconds they didn’t have to realize they were deadly, too. 

Dean said something as he reached Samuel’s side. Sam glanced in Angel’s direction; Angel couldn’t read his expression. Then both the Winchesters turned for the exit.

Dean was whistling as they left.

Coming up to Angel’s side, Lorne stumbled as if tripped. He dropped his sea breeze and the glass shattered on the floor.

“Holy…mother of mini-Angeluses,” he breathed.

Angel’s lips formed a grim line. “Yeah. That pretty much covers it.”


	2. 50 one-sentence Fics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I once wrote 50 sentences featuring Vamp!Sam/Vamp!Dean, set in the same unuverse as 'Sight' and 'Circle'. I've reposted them here.

 

1\. Motion

They seemed always in motion, like sharks circling in the water, but as long as Angelus allowed Samuel to bring Dean to his side he would follow his sire to the ends of the earth.

2\. Cool

The night air was cool with the onset of winter, smoky with the fires burning down buildings all around them, and Sam’s lips were warm against Dean’s cooling flesh.

3\. Young

Even when Sam was young, and human, and foolish, he had felt this unnatural hunger for his brother, which felt so natural now with no guilt on his conscience and Dean’s blood on his tongue.

4\. Last

The first thought that entered Dean’s mind, as Sam sank fangs into the tender curve of his neck, was ‘ _No, Sammy, please_ ‘; the last thought was of Sam’s final words to him and Dean breathed, weakly, “Yes.” 

5\. Wrong

Perhaps Angelus had always known that there was something…different about Samuel, something wrong, but it hadn’t been obvious before Dean; then Sam was unable to hide how he favored his childe over even his sire. 

6\. Gentle

The spell caressed like gentle fingers, then pierced like sharp talons, and he reached out for Sam as Sam’s cries echoed his own.

7\. One

Dean knew fledglings had but one insatiable desire in the first days of their unlife - the desire to hunt, to feed - but Dean, even in the midst of a kill, rarely took his eyes off Sam, whose eyes never wandered far from Dean.

8\. Thousand

They had killed a thousand men apiece (perhaps more) by that time, and though it seemed impossible, the full magnitude of each death hit them at once like the rays of a thousand suns.

9\. King

Prospero was the prince of fools for damning himself to death, but Samuel was the king for having damned his brother, who he had loved in life more than his own untarnished claim on eternity.

10\. Learn

They’d always known Latin, Sam knew German, and Dean knew Spanish, but they decided to learn French because Dean had acquired a taste for French ladies and Sam had grown bored of Italy.

11\. Blur

They were a blur beneath the streetlights as they raced through the panicking crowd, in pursuit of a meal worthy to share at leisure.

12\. Wait

Sam knows how Dean loves the skeptics; cannot wait to see the light of recognition dawn in their eyes before he drains them and their eyes go dull. 

13\. Change

Sam loves watching Dean take the believers; watching his brother’s face change as their victim cowers, knowing exactly what is about to happen.

14\. Command

The Watcher’s voice held a tone of command, but it impressed Sam and Dean little, as all voices turned pleading after Dean had roughened them with whimpers and screams.

15\. Hold

They do not hold one another when they do not leave bruises, and they do not bite when they do not stain the sheets bloody, and they will tear anyone and anything that dares to mark the other into ragged, gruesome pieces.

16\. Need

Their pleasure was great, but their need greater, as every brush of skin and tongue and fangs seemed only to incite their passions further.

17\. Vision

He had, mercifully, Seen little before his soul had been returned to him, but one evening Samuel woke beside Dean, his mind still reeling from the vision that had played out on the insides of his eyelids.

18\. Attention

The locals called the killings “vicious”, “slaughter”, “tragedy”; Sam called them a cry for attention and fondly promised Dean he would not neglect him again.

19\. Soul

He might have expected how the soul soured the thrill of the hunt, dampened his delight in a kill, but could not explain how his love for his brother had survived the realization of their monstrosity, undimmed. 

20\. Picture

He had a picture of the two of them with their father - a deguerotype with the caption ‘ _Winchester, John, Aberdean, and Samuel_ ‘ - which he kept in the back pocket of his Levi’s.

21\. Fool

Dean was no fool; though he could stay out hunting with William all night, he came home early, thinking it best not to toy with the wounded jealousy he’d seen in Sam’s eyes when he’d left.

22\. Mad

At times they thought they’d both go mad with the cravings, but they could survive on pig’s blood and one another, and over the years they would stop seeing every human they crossed through a haze of almost irresistible want.

23\. Child

They could not wrap their minds around the fact that Angelus had a child ( _c-h-i-l-d_ , no _e_ ), nor the surprise that, when Connor became aware of one of the ways in which they’d “known” his father, he calmly requested, “Show me.”

24\. Now

It had started as a means to an end, now the hunting - not innocents (not any more) but criminals, monsters - was something else, and Dean noticed the change in Sam, tasted the hope in Sam’s kiss.

25\. Shadow

He follows the young Watcher like a shadow, not really knowing why, but something about the tall, thin boy in the wire-rimmed glasses reminds him of his Sammy as he’d been before Angelus.

26\. Goodbye

Sam wonders, for weeks, how he will say goodbye, and Dean - typically - just takes off one evening, a few weeks before the second World War really gets going.

27\. Hide

They try to hide how much they’ve missed one another, like absent sides of their own selves, but Dean’s smirk is knowing when Sam’s eyes can’t settle on one particular point on Dean’s face, and Sam’s eyes laugh when Dean’s mouth morphs from one kind of smile into another, shifting around the words he won’t say.

28\. Fortune

Over the years Sam made a fortune in stocks and bonds - he even somehow escaped Black Tuesday, but when the first credit cards were issued Dean squandered a good portion of their assets, and indebted himself to Sam until roughly 2016.

29\. Safe

The bistro is a safe haven, and they should just hide in there - it’s so close to dawn, they might not make it home - but Dean swears he’d rather burn into dust than spend all morning listening to beatnik poets slaughter free verse.

30\. Ghost

Her heart was beating, her lungs drew breath, but when Sam and Dean bumped into a woman who looked like Darla on the moonlit boardwalk, they were certain they’d seen a ghost, and Darla didn’t tell them otherwise.

31\. Book

Sam likes reading a good book as he sips his cup of blood in the morning, but Dean - who believes the Technology Age was initiated just for him - watches television, turns the stereo up way too loud, or plays video games before going out for breakfast.

32\. Eye

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and in his mind’s eye, when he thinks “beauty”, he sees his brother.

33\. Never

It is never spoken, but it is understood that Angelus favors the brothers - their cunning, their discipline, and the way their bodies move almost as one when Angelus bids them to arch beneath his touch.

34\. Sing

Dru used to sing the two of them to sleep, like they were her children and she their “Mommy”, but she had laughed and clapped when she’d climbed into bed with Dean, and found that Sam was already there wrapped around him. 

35\. Sudden

They are as lovely as they are deadly in this moment, all shining lips sliding against one another, the second before fangs and ridges morph their faces and they turn to you, the fingers wrapping tight around your throat moving so quickly you never hear the sudden sna-

36\. Stop

“Don’t…stop…,” Dean moans, pulling against the ropes just to feel them, and Sam’s eyes glimmer, golden, as he snaps his hips forward into his brother.

37\. Time

There was a time when they thought it would be easier if they did this alone, like they could push the past behind them by pushing one another away, but separate their ghosts only seemed to close in more quickly.

38\. Wash

He cracks after five years, when he realizes he’s stopped washing the blood stains out of his shirts because they remind him of how Dean never remembered to launder his clothes quickly enough after a messy kill.

39\. Torn

They hear about Penn before they hear about Angelu- _Angel_ , and Sam is torn; he lies in Dean’s arms unable to close his eyes.

40\. History

Sam thinks the printing press, indoor plumbing, and the motion picture are the greatest inventions in modern history; Dean lists as his favorites: the Hemi engine, rock-and-roll music and flavored lube.

41\. Power

Sam knew the blood spiral wasn’t supposed to be so powerful between two fledglings, but maybe the power evoked during the cycle had less to do with blood and sex, than with the connection he and Dean had shared in life that had only strengthened with death. 

42\. Bother

Sometimes Dean does his best to bother Sam, just to see the way Sam’s jaw tightens when he’s irritated, to hear Sam forget himself and growl, to hit the floor on his back hard enough that air whooshes through his lungs like he’s taken a breath, Sam latched to his body with hands and mouth.

43\. God

Dean tries not to think of God, because he’s sure God tries His hardest not to think of him; even before he’d been damned…Dean’s thoughts of his brother had surely lost him God’s favor.

44\. Wall

Sam hits the wall with his stomach and chest and cheekbone; the taste of blood and brick only excite him further as Dean’s lips curl against the nape of Sam’s neck.

45\. Naked

Dean looks roguish in denim and leather, suave in a finely tailored suit, but Sam prefers him naked, when whether he is a gentleman or a gigolo, debonair or demonic, depends upon the nature of the glint in his eye and the cut of his smile.

46\. Drive

Sam does not prefer to drive - when the first horseless buggy came out, it took Dean weeks to talk him into riding in one, and Sam cannot lean over in the Impala’s front seat and take Dean in his mouth when he’s behind the wheel.

47\. Harm

The Initiative doesn’t seem like much, because they’ve seen government projects just like it come and go, but the Initiative has something those other projects never had: the stupidity to try and harm Sam without dusting Dean first.

48\. Precious

It had been months since they’d had a decent meal when they had found a pickpocket in Hamburg, and they were each so famished they could pretend that was reason enough; his warm blood was precious, but Dean let Sam drink first, because Sam meant more than him than sustenance.

49\. Hunger

“Well aren’t we dirty little boys,” Darla cooed as she and Drusilla slipped back into their gowns, and Dean grinned at her, but Sam could think only of what Angelus and William would do when they learned; Darla’s appetite for destruction was insatiable.

50\. Believe

The Slayer could have staked him ten times over, but she hadn’t, and Dean was shaken, as no one had ever claimed to believe there was good in him besides his long-dead father and Sam.


	3. In the Flash of Morning Light

She is the first to know – intuition, more than Sight, acting as her guide. She feels a chill when she should be warm; the weight of the air in a breezy room. She senses the _wrongness_ in the world in a way that she never has before.

And _that_ is how she knows that this time is different. This time her strange sort of _knowing_ is meant for more than keeping her separate from the other slaves, in her own hut right near the main house.

This time she barricades her door at night. Burns her best white candles – has Adelandi’s boy fetch her moss and pine and snake root. Her fear is so sharp and powerful even Master can see it. And he doesn’t say anything when she takes to wearing her incense around her neck, tossing it behind her steps as she shuffles between the kitchen and the woodshed. 

Since she was a girl, the visions have come in snatches of thought and memory – rising off of people like smoke off of water.

Now they come in the form of a man. With a young face and wrong-old eyes. Saying, “Mississippi,” with a lilt in her name and Master’s blood on his lips. 

They come in the flash of morning light off of fangs and there isn’t even time to scream.

She’s gone in a smile, a blink, a snarl. And then the thing that’s murdered her looks to his companions, spread out around the fancy, blood-splattered parlor room.

“A serpent in her pocket. The birdie should have been more swift to sing,” murmurs the odd-minded one in the corner, as the eldest pets her hair. 

“Well, Samuel, I’ll give you this,” says the large one, embracing her killer. “I _am_ enjoying the Americas. Let’s not rush through them. We’ll stay here awhile before we go find our friend the friar, hmm?” 

She thinks of friends – of fathers. Of children with dirty white faces and big, warm eyes. With futures waiting to swallow their souls like small plums – nothing left but pits and sorrow. 

When her thoughts are all that’s left of her she lets go of the world and prays that hope will find its way into it somehow.


	4. Cane & A High Starched Collar

Of all the hunting grounds they’ve claimed, Victorian England was Dean’s least favorite. The ladies of the ton were all so prim and proper – blood weak from dainty appetites, flavored by mild opiates. Peasant blood was even worse, tasting of disease and malnutrition, so Dean couldn’t take his pleasures from scarlet women as he had in earlier decades. 

Sam wasn’t bothered. He’d developed a taste for stable boys by then, for which Dean would tease him mercilessly for ages after. 

And occasionally Sam catches himself missing the Victorian style of dress. High collars and somber coats hid bite marks and bruises neatly, and Dean looked exceptional in gentleman’s attire, complete with gloves and hat and polished cane. The fine suits made Sam work harder to get Dean naked, teasing them both with waiting for flesh on flesh and fangs on skin. 

Sam’s least favorite era was the American sixties. The novelty of Free Love and hemp-sweet blood faded quickly, and the only highlight of that period was when Dean felt inspired to grow out his hair. 

Sam remembers the look fondly and thinks maybe it was enough to excuse the awful platforms brought home by disco a few years later.


	5. I Built You

" _i snapped your ribs, made a lover//so you could share each other_ "

 

It’s tradition more than necessity that wakes the newly sired in a bed of damp soil, so when Darla orders the minions to carry Dean towards his grave and Samuel doesn’t move from his brother’s side, Angelus intervenes.

It’s a bit pathetic, he thinks – the way the boy clings to flesh and bone that would rot and stink if it still had blood in it. 

But Samuel stares at Dean in a way Angelus has never seen, and he wants to study that look before it dims in Samuel’s eyes. He sees it flicker when Samuel is faced with the thought of leaving Dean - even for a night – so Angelus stands his ground. Darla is displeased; leaves with Drusilla, angry, and Angelus will pay for his arrogance eventually. But at the moment he is unconcerned.

Samuel’s lips are still stained with Winchester blood and Angelus wants to taste it - it should have been his to gulp at leisure, after all the trouble this bloodline has brought him.

Of course – it has brought him pleasure, also.

And taste Sam Angelus does, with a hunger he’s never felt for a childe - or for anything, really, besides his own sire.

“It’s a corpse, boy. Nothing else.” Perhaps it would be nothing else even after Dean rose from the dead. Angelus would admit – there was something not quite right with Samuel. Angelus overlooked it, to enjoy the young vampire’s body, knowing who had sired it before him, and to enjoy his company. But Angelus blamed Sam’s heritage for his unnaturalness, and Dean had been more of a Winchester in life than his brother.

“You are more,” Samuel said, with characteristic recklessness.

Angelus squeezed the vampire’s jaw in his fingers, staring until Samuel dropped his gaze. “He isn’t me. You’d do well to remember that, Samuel.”

“I know.” Samuel _was_ intelligent, after all. “But he’ll please you, sire. I know he will.”

A moment passed. Angelus licked the line of Samuel’s parted lips and released him.

“I’m sure he will. He’ll be dust otherwise.”

Something flashed in Samuel’s eyes but Angelus chose not to pursue it. As enjoyable as he was, Samuel was still Angelus’s childe – ‘ _only a corpse_ ’, bones that still broke and blood that still spilt – and he would bow to Angelus in this, one way or the other.

“Yes, sire.” Samuel said it easily and Angelus was mistakenly appeased.

The others are gone when Dean rises, and Samuel is pleased. The first thing his undead brother sees is Samuel himself, wide blue eyes flashing gold in the first few moments. Samuel smiles. He’d known that Dean would be strong – he always had been in life, far stronger than Samuel.

“Sammy…”

Dean’s voice is something between a whisper and a rattle. “What-”

The blue disappears completely and Dean’s face changes as he bolts upright on the bed, fingers of one hand wrapping themselves around Sam’s throat.

“What did you _do_?” His words are slurred and thick with the unfamiliar feeling of fangs filling his mouth.

Samuel is still for long moments, as he listens to his brother try – and fail – to find the need to breathe.

Then his smile widens. He lets his own face shift, a happy snarl slipping past his lips as he grabs Dean’s still-weak wrist in one hand and Dean’s throat with the other. He propels them back onto the bed, fast and forceful enough to splinter the headboard and knock plaster off the walls.

Dean’s angry-confused expression is replaced by shock and that unnecessary breath he’d been taking rushes out of him.

Samuel is too overcome for words. Their father had been a fool. Vampires _can_ feel – Samuel knows it now. He feels more elated in this moment than he ever had as a human.

“What are you?” Dean gasps – almost comical, with his face still stretched into those gloriously inhuman angles. His eyes seek Sam’s. “What am _I_?”

But he knows. Samuel presses their lips together softly to ease the shock of knowing. Dean looks even more startled, but doesn’t pull away. 

And Samuel purrs against Dean’s flesh, lowering his face to Dean’s neck. “Beautiful.”

Dean hesitates… and then arches against Samuel’s questing lips.

_I'm torn between halos, demons  
Separate seasons  
Remember who built your home.  
I built you flesh and bone.  
 **Come inside, kneel.**_


	6. Out Past the Breakers (Watch the World Die)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating on this part is particularly well deserved - be warned.

During the ‘90s, they rarely stayed in one place for longer than a week - a month at most.

Dean went through another one of those stages where he craved city lights, so they moved from city to city to city. Sometimes Sam missed the little towns they’d frequented before - the villa they’d lived in for almost a decade, back in Italy almost a century ago. But sometimes he didn’t mind so much. He liked the night life in the modern metropolis about as much as Dean did. The nightclubs - all those hot, human bodies packed into one place at one time. Sam liked the sight of them. The scent. Alcohol and anxiety and sex... A part of Sam - the almost somewhat human part - was disgusted by all of it. The other parts of Sam… 

Well. They agreed with Dean’s perception of things.

“Fuck. That’s good,” Dean mumbled. Then he broke away, gasping a little bit - which was always funny. He’d never remember that they didn’t need to breathe. He licked his lips and his hips jutted forward.

Sam tightened the fist buried down the front of Dean’s Levis. He frowned as he felt the blood that began a slow trickle down his neck. Dean’s lips were wet and red with it. “We can’t start a-”

“I’m not starting anything,” Dean told him, nuzzling the other side of Sam’s throat. “I’m just getting a taste.” He pulled back and wagged his eyebrows, giving Sam a smirk. “For now.”

Sam snorted, then hissed when Dean’s fangs broke the skin on the opposite side of his neck. 

“ _Shit_.” Sam thrust his own hips, begging for friction from the hard thigh wedged tightly between both of his. Dean chuckled against his skin. 

“Screw you,” Sam managed, though the slide of Dean’s tongue against his skin made speaking difficult.

Dean suckled at the swiftly closing wound on Sam’s throat, then wrapped one hand around the nape of Sam’s neck.

“You first, baby brother.”

He slammed his mouth and Sam’s together, and Sam - who was still wearing his human face - cried out as the impact split his lip and blood filled his mouth. Dean chased the taste of copper with his tongue, and the taste of _him_ caused Sam to change at last. His fangs and Dean’s bumped against one another, nipped and tore at one another’s lips, as the kiss continued. 

Dean flattened Sam against the alley wall at Sam’s back, making Sam work to keep his hand moving between their bodies, drawing more pants and hisses and the occasional moan from Dean’s lips. Sam thrust against Dean’s thigh almost in rhythm with the beat of the music coming from inside the club they’d just left.

When Dean’s fingers went to the button of Sam’s jeans, Sam softly growled.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Still think we shoulda spent the night at home, Sammy?”

Dean dropped to his knees unceremoniously before Sam - fangs and ridges disappearing, though his ever-present smirk remained.

“We could have…done this - _ah_ \- at home,” Sam responded, even as Dean lowered his head and Sam wound his fingers in his brother’s hair.

‘ _Yeah, but nobody could just walk in on us at home_ ‘ Sam could almost hear Dean thinking it. In anyone else, perhaps that exhibitionism would have worn off after a century - but with Dean, sexual kinks never got old.

Thinking about it aroused Sam even more. Too soon he was struggling against Dean’s inhuman grip on his hips, pulsing down Dean’s throat, cursing and coming and breathing Dean’s name. 

“That’s my boy,” Dean said quietly, placing a soft kiss just below Sam’s belly button. 

Sam’s fingers were still tangled in Dean’s hair. He curled them and drew Dean to his feet, planting a much less gentle kiss on Dean’s lips, which now had Dean growling. Sam’s back hit brick again, this time hard enough to send up a little cloud of dust when Dean shoved him back. Dean snarled, sniffing at Sam’s skin as he tugged at the buttons of Sam’s shirt.

It wasn’t as funny to Sam when he forgot, himself, that gasping was sorta ridiculous. He writhed as Dean’s palms slid across the flat of his stomach, then his chest - pausing to pinch at his nipples before gripping his shoulders and urging him to kneel.

Dean was bare beneath his levis. Just a zipper and a button and a moment separated Sam from nipping at Dean’s flesh, directly above the waist of Dean’s jeans, and licking a line up the length of Dean’s shaft. 

Dean’s fingers flexed where they bit into Sam’s shoulders.

“ _Fuck_. Just do it, Sam. Don’t tease.”

Sam didn’t hear _that_ often, which meant that Dean was really close. Sam fought the temptation to tease him anyway, and stretched his lips around Dean’s straining erection, swallowing it down in one fast, fierce motion. Dean made noises in the back of his throat that veered from primal, to pleading, and back again.

Sam heard another sound. Distant, but growing closer. Sam ignored it, focusing his attention on using his tongue and teeth. 

“ _Uhn_ , yes, Sam…” 

Dean came seconds before the sharp cry at the other end of the alley, palms and forehead pressed against the brick wall, still slowly thrusting into Sam’s mouth. When he was still, Sam pulled away, tracing one hipbone in front of him with his lips. 

“Hear that?” he asked.

Dean let out another unnecessary breath, then straightened, offering Sam a hand to help him to his feet. Sam took it, eyes narrowing and changing until he could peer into the darkness of the alley and see the young women scuffling with the trio of thugs who’d chased them to that location.

Dean finished fixing his clothing as Sam re-buttoned his shirt. “Uh uh. See why I love getting out in this city? Just try getting room service that fast.” Sam rolled his eyes. Dean took a look at the humans who’d joined them in the near-darkness himself. “I call dibs on the big guy,” he added.

Sam shook his head and sighed - but, when Dean wasn’t looking, he let the corners of his lips curl into a smile.


	7. Still Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Winchesters get revenge, of a sort.

“So that’s what you came for? Revenge? I took your brother so you take-”

Angel stopped himself, words catching, cutting, in his throat. His fists clenched at his sides until he could feel the bones shift in his hands. Rage. Hate. Dean had gotten what he’d come for if this is what he had felt when Angel had staked Samuel.

Dean cocked one brow, that ever-present smirk of his spreading slowly across his face.

“Take your what, Angelus? Come on, I want to hear you say it.”

Angel clenched his teeth. Dean was on the opposite side of the ramsacked lobby, but that distance was nothing compared to Angel’s fury. He could take him. It would almost be funny how easy he could take him. But if there was even a chance-

There had to be a chance. Dean wouldn’t have just killed Wesley. That wasn’t his style. He’d have wanted to keep him alive long enough to torment Angel with him. He’d have wanted to make Angel watch. Dean liked making his victims watch.

Angelus had taught him that.

Dean scoffed. “You always were a drama queen. I didn’t take him anywhere.”

Angel didn’t blink. It was a lie. Wesley’s scent was in the lobby, the same as Dean’s. Wesley’s bl- Blood was everywhere. But Angel couldn’t hear a single human… heartbeat.

Realization followed closely behind dread, and Angel had to steady himself where he was standing. “No,” he said. “Wes-” Angel said it quietly…

But Wesley heard him anyhow.

He came out of the office and appeared at Dean’s side - eyes a calm, empty yellow. “Yes, Angel?” he asked pleasantly. Angel was speechless. 

Dean wasn’t. 

He smiled, mouth full of fangs and spite and satisfaction. “I didn’t come to LA to wreak _vengeance_ upon my dear old sire, or some cliché bullshit like that,” he said. “You know me, Angelus. I don’t do melodrama. I came ‘cause I got bored.” Dean shrugged. “And lonely... without Sammy, and all. But guess what? It’s not so lonely here in Los Angeles.”

Dean stopped smiling, about a second before Wes moved.

“I think we’ll stick around a while,” Dean added.


End file.
